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Once we’re in the sky, Quinn reaches over and grabs my hand, linking her fingers with mine. I look down at the gesture then at her.
“Your hands are soft for a man.”
Is that supposed to be a compliment?
“Um, thank you?”
“Bet you haven’t had to do a lot of physical labor in your life, huh? And I don’t mean that in a bad way. There’s a job out there for everyone.”
I show her my other hand. “I have a callus here from the weight bar at the gym.”
“That must have been excruciating. You poor thing.” She unlinks our hands and grabs my other hand, kissing the callus. “There, all better.”
I look around, and there’s only one other person in first class besides the flight attendant. I grab her good hand and kiss her knuckles in return.
“Well, there’s your sweet side,” she quietly drawls, staring at me. “I wish I had two hands so I could touch your beard, but I don’t wanna let go of your hand.”
“What’s happening between us?” I whisper.
“I don’t know, but I sure like it. And I promise I won’t tell a soul. Well, except maybe my memaw because she’s a nosy ol’ hen.”
I can’t stop smiling at her.
The flight attendant approaches and asks if we’d like drinks. I order a scotch and she orders a Diet Pepsi. After those are brought out, she quickly brings us a meal of grilled chicken, green beans, and potatoes.
“This is so fancy! We don’t get food in coach. Just peanuts and pretzels and stuff.”
I laugh. “What savages.”
“Right?” she says, digging into her food.
After we eat, we chat easily throughout the flight, me asking her about her upbringing, her family in Alabama, and she in turn asks me questions about my family as well.
It seems like no time passes, and the plane’s descending into Dallas.
***
A hired limousine picks us up at the airport, and it’s a short ride to the hotel Tricia booked us.
“This is the prettiest hotel I have ever seen!” she exclaims as we head to the check-in desk.
“It’s just a Hilton,” I say with a chuckle. I mean, it is very clean and modern, the nicest one in the area, apparently.
I look at her in jeans and a tee and wonder if she brought anything dressier so I could take her to a nice dinner tonight.
After we check in, we both go to our rooms. Tricia obviously booked us two rooms, which is fine, as I’m not sure I could share a room with someone just yet. But they’re directly across the hall from each other.
I help her carry her bag into her room, and before her door closes, I say, “I know of a great steakhouse near here. I’ll come by in a couple of hours and get you. Do you have anything besides jeans?”
She grins. “I actually brought a dress with me. I’ll wear it.”
“Perfect,” I say with a grin, closing her door.
I settle into my room, hanging up my garment bags and putting my toiletries in the bathroom. I empty the rest of my suitcase into the top drawer of the dresser and pull my laptop from the bag, booting it up and sitting down at the ensuite desk.
After about thirty minutes, I can’t fucking concentrate. My eyes keep drifting to the hotel bed. I keep imagining Quinn’s naked body lying there, spread open for me to do whatever I wanted to her. I’m disappointed there’s nothing to secure her wrists to and begin to wonder if she even likes that sort of thing.
Having never been in a long-term, committed relationship, I have no idea what women want anymore. I know the ladies at the sex club let me do what I want to them because they’re subs and that’s what they prefer. But with a regular person, outside of the club, are they into that stuff too? How would I even go about asking Quinn something like this?
